Part 26 (2/2)

”I know. But I've been thinking.” He hesitated for an instant.

”What about maybe if I were to settle down a little, split some time between here and California, take it easy.”

Her expression was full of attention and love, but not without a small and knowing frown. They had had the conversation before, usually when he was feeling depressed, and they both knew that neither was fully ready to settle down.

”And what if you and I, you know...” he said, his voice trailing off, his hands brus.h.i.+ng her shoulders.

”No.”

”But - ”

”Petey,” she said, pressing her fingertips to his lips. ”You know that once you get something zipping around in that carnival-quick head of yours, you're going to be flying at a million miles an hour.”

He smirked. ”Okay, maybe not marriage, but how about...I don't know. I've been thinking more and more about the feeling I get when I remember back to the first time I saw a kid use a Mate computer.” His voice became a whisper. ”Maybe a child in my life, a baby, our baby.” He stressed his grip on her waist and pulled her closer.

”You know I can't have a baby,” she said. Her eyes were glistening. ”I'm too old, and I told you I tried long before we met,” she said. ”You know that. And yet you suggest it.” Taking his index finger, she lightly poked her taut belly in an attempt to make light of the situation. ”Closed for business. Sorry.” She trembled.

He pressed her head against his chest and rubbed the back of her neck. ”Hey, I'm sorry.” He kissed her eyelids. ”That wasn't nice of me to bring up again. I'm really sorry. Okay?”

She nodded and he wiped his thumb under her eyes.

”Petey, trust me. You just need a little time to think. You're thinking right now about what is today, and you're not giving yourself a chance to just take it easy.”

Now it was he who nodded and lowered his head to hers, and she hugged him. ”It'll come, Petey, I know it will. It will come again.”

”Promise?”

”Cross my heart. Now put some clothes on,” she said, slapping his rear. ”I'm getting cold and hungry, and we don't want to be late for your new friend.” She turned and strolled to the bedroom.

Suddenly his underwear whizzed past her head, grazing her hair before landing on the bed. She stopped in place and set her hands on her hips and turned around with a playful grin on her face.

”Isn't it fas.h.i.+onable to be late?”

”Dinner is ready,” Greta said from Matthew's office door, just off the library.

”I'll just be a minute,” he said, turning to acknowledge her, but she was already gone.

He finished typing his e-mail message to William Harrell, then clicked the send b.u.t.ton. Piled on his desk were notes, charts, and schedules, each a vital facet of the overall ICP Strategic Alliance report he had been working on all day. Another Sat.u.r.day devoted to work, but that was nothing new. Glancing at his watch he figured he could probably finish most of the outline by morning, so long as he hurried through dinner.

Leaving the light of his library office, he strolled through the uncharacteristically dark house. He padded down the long hallway and pa.s.sed the closed dining room door, crossed the foyer, and rounded the corner to the family room and kitchen area. The room was dark and there were no plates, gla.s.ses or utensils on the table where they usually ate, just outside the kitchen and facing the family room with its big-screen television. Only the day's mail rested on the table, where he had left it several hours earlier.

”Greta?” he called, turning toward the kitchen. In the minimal illumination of the dimmed track lights he saw pots and pans resting with their lids ajar, a few gooey spoons. Having had a moment to adjust to the darkness, he caught the flickering glow coming from the dining room, which was accessed either by the foyer or through the doorway in the kitchen.

”In here,” came his wife's voice softly.

He rounded the turn and was a little surprised to see Greta seated at the formal dining table, facing him. The room was dark except for the gentle radiance from two candles. Silverware s.h.i.+mmered and crystal gla.s.ses sparkled in the soft light. Poached vegetables and steaming new red potatoes in delicate china bowls sat beside a covered serving dish. Between the candles, in a large vase in the center of the table, were p.u.s.s.y willow branches, fuzzy and in full bloom. When he had walked in the door with them yesterday, she had thought for a moment that he had remembered. But then he explained that someone from the office had brought in bunches for everyone.

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